


cravings

by carolion



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Food Porn, M/M, i don't want to talk about it, why do i write these things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/pseuds/carolion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff Skinner licking frosting off of Eric Staal's mouth. Because of reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cravings

**Author's Note:**

> I LIED. This fic is mostly about cupcakes. But the cupcakes are a metaphor! And there is eventual licking of frosting off of said mouths, so you can't be too mad at me. This is probably the worst characterization of Jeff and Eric ever, since I know so little about them, but I don't care. This fic exists because [this picture](http://25.media.tumblr.com/f7dfbb92ed76e1ea2dfe99ce32385226/tumblr_mnwlw0NiNO1qhf6cco1_500.jpg) exists and um. Yeah. Unbeta'd because it's shameful and posted in the middle of the night for the same reason. I had a lot of fun writing this, I cannot lie. Sorry about your lives, readers.

Eric doesn't indulge his sweet tooth very often. Or well, he tries not to. He pays very close attention to the nutritionists and athletic trainers when they outline what his meal plan should consist of, and he's read all the emails and articles passed on to him by his mother about how sugar can be an addiction and that addictions can be broken, particularly with aversion and yet.

And yet somehow he's ended up in the new little cupcake shop that opened up down the road from the rink, eyeing their assorted display of cupcakes with the sort of longing and deep desire that he usually associates with _sex_. 

Jeff is, predictably, laughing at him. 

"See something you like there?" He teases, grinning in the face of Eric's extreme split in conscious. 

"I shouldn't," Eric says sadly. He's staring balefully at a lemon cake cupcake with powder blue frosting and delicate, edible pearl adornments.

Jeff laughs again, walking around the shop without the heavy weight of guilt. _Jeff_ doesn't seem to struggle with sweets the same way Eric does. _Jeff_ actually likes plain grilled chicken, and whole grains, and as few garnishes as possible. He's admitted that sometimes he craves pasta more than he craves ice cream. Eric hates him, just a little. 

The perky shopkeeper can seem to sense weakness, because she magically appears by Eric's elbow - and he does mean elbow, she can't be taller than 5'5" or something - with a wide, eager to help smile. 

"Can I help you sir? Have you decided? I'd be happy to get you a sample." She is the devil, Eric thinks sourly to himself.

Instead, he repeats "I really shouldn't," in that same, plaintive voice he'd used with Jeff. 

Her smile seems to widen. 

"Just because you shouldn't do something doesn't mean you _can't_ , Eric," Jeff murmurs. He'd materialized sometime in between Eric evaluating his life choices and cursing his weak will power. 

Eric turns to stare at him, blinking dumbly at the way Jeff's smile curls, knowing and secretive and coaxing. It is like the essence of a cupcake in a smile, Eric thinks stupidly, and jabs his finger suddenly at the display. 

"Fine. Fine. I'll take that one. Uh, please," because he might be a sucker, but he's not an animal. 

She boxes it up for him - a red velvet cake with white and pale red frosting, swirling together in a close approximation of the Hurricanes' logo (Jeff can't seem to stop giggling about it) - and Eric carries it gingerly between his hands like a bomb all the way back to his car. 

He's not really surprised when Jeff opens up the door to his jeep to get in the passenger side, but his lifts his eyebrows anyway. 

"Oh come on," Jeff protests, slinging himself into the seat. "Like I watched you be all torn and angsty about _cupcakes_ for a half an hour just to miss out on you reluctantly enjoying it? I want to watch you eat this sucker." 

Jeff primly snatches to box out of Eric's hands so he can drive, placing it gently on his lap, hands cupping the edges loosely. 

"You're weird," Eric grunts, pulling out of his parking space. 

"I'm not the one getting existential about a dessert." 

He doesn't say anything in retaliation mostly, he realizes with a sinking heart, because he doesn't have anything to dispute it. 

"I hate that you're making this a big deal," he complains when they get to Eric's house. Jeff has a weird energy about him, almost vibrating as he waits impatiently for Eric to open the door. 

"There's an argument here that you're the one making it a big deal," Jeff points out,and immediately carries the cupcake into Eric's living room, leaving Eric to trail behind.

"Sit," Jeff says cheerfully, pointing at the couch, like this isn't Eric's house, like that isn't Eric's couch. He grabs the remote and pushes the cupcake box, tied neatly with a gauzy, yellow ribbon, into Eric's hands.

"Open," he continues to instruct, gesturing a little as he channel surfs. Eric has no idea what he's looking for, and thinks that maybe he should be protesting all this bossiness, but he sits on the couch, and tugs at the ribbon, opening the box cautiously.

Jeff seems to settle on a show - Eric thinks it's a Hawaii 5-0 rerun (the reboot, not the original, because Eric thinks that Jeff probably doesn't even know there _was_ an original series, and that thought makes him feels a bit weird and old) - and then turns expectantly to where Eric is sitting stupidly on the couch with his cupcake dwarfed in his huge hands. 

It looks so innocuous and pretty, he thinks to himself. _Like Jeff_ , his thoughts continue, and his brow knits together darkly. 

He lifts it closer to his face and inhales briefly, almost groaning at the way the smell of sugar hits him like a slap to his senses. This is a dessert that will get his heart rate up, for no other reason than chemical rush, sugar compounding in his bloodstream until he's high with it, dopamine triggered in his brain until he's chasing that rush again, sneaking out of the house at night to hit up bakery stores or all night mini marts for cheap pastries and full size candy bars. 

But sometimes resisting too hard can lead to the opposite effect. 

"Just eat it," Jeff says, cajoling. He's curled up on the opposite end of the couch, but he's staring at Eric with a strange reverence, eyes huge and fixated. 

"It's going to be like Pandora's box," Eric tries one last time, protesting weakly. It's already in his head though, he can practically taste it, the granules almost melting on his tongue already. 

Jeff rolls his eyes. "The moral of Pandora's box was that it was supposed to be opened, stupid." He kicks a leg out, nudges Eric's knee with his foot. "Go on." 

He takes off the wrapper and gently sets it beside him on the couch, trying not to get crumbs everywhere. The cake feels thick and spongy and moist, and Eric feels his mouth flood suddenly with saliva. He wants. So he takes a bite. 

"Ugh," he groans, shuddering. 

It's a good noise, a good groan, one of pure enjoyment. It's just - the spun sugar of the frosting makes him feel like a child, and he can feel where it smeared across his lips, but the dark, heavy weight of the red velvet cake makes him moan as it sits in his mouth, the perfect counterweight to the almost over-sweet icing. 

He lets his eyelids drop, savoring the taste, feeling it in the back of his throat, into his teeth, into his bones. 

Jeff clears his throat. Eric had completely forgotten he was there. 

"Good?" He asks, voice a little strangled. Eric can only nod, swiping a thumb across his lower lip to gather up the smeared frosting, and sucking it off his thumb carefully, drawing the favors back into his mouth slowly. 

"You have no idea," Eric says with meaning, and takes another bite. It's just as good as the first bite, and he lets his head fall back a little on the couch, humming around his mouthful.

Jeff makes another noise, but Eric doesn't look at him. He thinks he could live on cupcakes. Or this one, at least. Who needs lean proteins? Not him! He'll survive on saturated fats and refined sugars, thanks. 

He only has about one more bite, he thinks sadly as he looks at the last little bit in his hand. Already he wants another, ten more, a whole box full. This is why he doesn't indulge his sweet tooth, because Eric is a horrible, awful glutton, and spoiled to boot. 

It's an addiction. 

He pops the last bit into his mouth and sighs, breathy through his nose, because it tastes just as sweet and rich as the first bite did. His tongue wasn't numbed by the sheer sweetness of the frosting, or over burdened with the decadency of the fresh cake. Just the right balance of tastes to get his heart thrumming faster and faster as his blood sugars pick up, making his finger tips twitch with the sudden rush. 

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jeff says, and Eric jerks a little where he's sitting, because suddenly he has a lap full of Jeff Skinner and he doesn't know why.

"Wha-?" He tries to say, through a mouthful of cupcake. Jeff glowers at him, thighs braced on either side of him, his ass heavy on Eric's legs. 

"Shut up," he says, and slides his hands around Eric's neck, fingers gliding smoothly through the short, bristly hairs there, and Eric promptly does.

He swallows around the bite of food in his mouth, and then Jeff is kissing him, mouth soft and wet as it sucks on his upper lip. His tongue is warm as he licks up leftover traces of the frosting, and Eric groans into the feeling, his own hands coming up automatically to balance on Jeff's waist. He opens his mouth to accept the kiss, tilting his head and letting Jeff do whatever he wants, however he wants, because he never thought - never thought he'd have this chance, that Jeff would want him this way, as more than a role model and captain and teammate. 

"I've wanted to do that for _months_ ," Jeff sighs, his hands still carding through Eric's hair. 

Eric stares at him, slack jawed. "Seriously?" He asks, because he can't quite believe it.

Jeff rolls his eyes. "You are so delusional. Yes, seriously. You never noticed?" 

"Well," Eric tries, shifting underneath Jeff's weight until they're pressed closer together. "I mean. I noticed you, just not - you...noticing me." 

Jeff shakes his head in apparent disbelief, and kisses him again, a little more this time, a little harder. Eric kisses back and grips hard at Jeff's waist, because if he's allowed to do this, then he's going to take liberties. 

"God you taste sweet," Jeff gasps when they pull apart, licking at his lips obscenely. Eric stares, because he can now, he's _allowed_ , and thinks about those lips around his cock. 

"Funny," Eric says, and grins widely, "I was about to say the same thing about you."

Jeff punches him in the arm, but he's laughing and kisses him again, so Eric thinks he's probably doing okay.


End file.
